


We're not just saving lives

by scarfy36



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - FBI, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Graceland AU, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarfy36/pseuds/scarfy36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac was easily the friendliest agent in the ABC house, so it was no surprise when he was asked to pick up the new agent from the airport. He found Marius Pontmercy exactly where he had told him to wait, standing with perfect posture even though Courfeyrac had been at least half an hour late.</p><p>(Or: the Graceland AU where Les Amis are undercover agents and all live in one house)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I've been writing this on and off for months now because Graceland has ruined my life and I can totally see Les Amis working as undercover agents, hopefully it all makes sense without having seen the show.  
> also updates for this will be sporadic at best, even though I've got most of this planned out I'm apparently only good at writing beginnings.  
> (also also I'm posting this un-beta'd so if anyone would like to help me out with the rest that would be awesome)

Courfeyrac was easily the friendliest agent in the ABC house, so it was no surprise when he was asked to pick up the new agent from the airport. He found Marius Pontmercy exactly where he had told him to wait, standing with perfect posture even though Courfeyrac had been at least half an hour late. Marius was fresh out of Quantico, and Courfeyrac could sense his eagerness to start working during the whole drive home. ABC house was three stories high and backed onto the beach, but if Marius was surprised by the enormous size of the house, he didn’t let it show.

“There are 10 other agents living here, so it’s mildly chaotic most of the time,” Courfeyrac said, leading Marius through the living room and upstairs.

“So it works, having three agencies in one house?” he asked.

“We all sort of blend together by now,” Courfeyrac shrugged. “It feels like we’re almost a family most of the time.”

He gave a running commentary as they passed each room on the tour. “Kitchen and living rooms are on the ground floor, no civilians are allowed above ground floor. First and top floors are mostly bedrooms; on the first floor we’ve got Feuilly and Musichetta who are Customs, Joly and Jehan are DEA, and Grantaire’s a consultant for the FBI and DEA – though Grantaire’s room is rarely used, he always sleeps in Enjolras’ bed. On the top floor we’re all FBI – Enjolras, Combeferre, Bahorel, Bossuet – though he usually sleeps downstairs with Joly and Musichetta – me, and you.” He pointed to the empty bedroom.

“Try not to make too much noise, there’s usually someone asleep at any given time due to weird hours we work when we’re undercover.” His point was proven by an exhausted-looking Bahorel climbing the stairs, walking past them and closing his door without a word. “Exhibit A, Bahorel is under cover working at a night club, and will probably knock anyone who wakes him up during the day out cold.” Marius paled slightly at that.

“I’ll leave you to unpack, come find me later and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Courfeyrac said, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling to himself as he walked downstairs to the ground floor.

Marius’ flight had been early and as such, most of the house’s residents were still asleep with only Bossuet in the kitchen when Courfeyrac returned downstairs.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Bossuet asked around a mouthful of cereal.

“The new FBI guy’s here,” Courfeyrac answered with a grin.

“He cute?”

“He’s like a puppy, he’s adorable.”

“Who’s adorable?” Musichetta asked, entering the kitchen wearing only a pair of boxers and shirt that unmistakably belonged to Joly.

“The new guy, Marius.” Musichetta stole a spoonful of Bossuet’s cereal as Courfeyrac answered. “So try to tone it down until he gets used to us all. Enjolras will be disappointed if we scare him off before he even gets a case.”

“Is Enjolras up yet?” Musichetta asked. “I thought you were supposed to wake him when the new guy got here.”

“Shit,” Courfeyrac muttered, throwing a “thanks” behind him as he ran back up the stairs.

Marius watched curiously as Courfeyrac thundered up the stairs and started banging on a door down the hall from him. A man with dark, messy hair opened the door wearing nothing but his underwear and a grimace.

“Is Enjolras awake?”

“He is now.” The man – who Marius deduced was Grantaire, the one who sleeps in Enjolras’ bed – sounded unimpressed.

“The new guy’s here,” Courfeyrac explained, attempting to peek past Grantaire into the room. “I was supposed to wake Enjolras when he got here.”

A faint groaning sound came from inside the room and Grantaire smirked slightly. “He was supervising a stakeout last night. Give him five–” another groan “–ten minutes.”

Courfeyrac nodded, spotting Marius when he turned around as Grantaire closed the door. “Done unpacking already?” Marius made a gesture somewhere between a nod and a shrug that made Courfeyrac grin. “Come downstairs then and you can start putting faces to the names.”

“How long have they been together?” Marius asked, following him onto the staircase.

“Enjolras and Grantaire? No one knows exactly how long, but they came to the house together so it’s been a few years at least. Grantaire was his CI for a while before he became an official consultant.”

“He was a criminal?”

“He was involved with one of the biggest dealers the FBI’s taken down in the past decade. The story’s almost legend by now, even though most of the details are classified – he was cooperative through his whole arrest and he gave them so much information that six months into his sentence he was released into the FBI’s custody to become a CI. Rumour has it he fell for Enjolras the second he saw him, and it was only Enjolras that kept him clean enough to finish his sentence as a CI and eventually become a permanent consultant for both the FBI and DEA.”

Marius, still mulling over the new information, followed Courfeyrac obediently downstairs, where Musichetta and Bossuet were now sharing the latter’s bowl of cereal.

“Marius, this is Musichetta and Bossuet – Customs and FBI respectively.” A smile and a wave from each were given as Courfeyrac introduced them.

“Are you overwhelmed yet?” Musichetta asked with a kind smile.

“A little, but I’ll get used to it all soon,” Marius answered, pulling up a seat opposite the two at the kitchen table.

“The beauty of a place like ABC is that you’re always kept on your toes.”  

Before Marius had time to think about what she meant by that, Combeferre entered from the back door, covered in sweat and presumably returning from a run. He walked straight past Marius on a quest to drink Bahorel’s juice straight from the carton.

“Don’t let Joly see you doing that,” Bossuet and Musichetta said simultaneously. Combeferre flipped them off and continued drinking.

“Joly has a lot of medical training,” Courfeyrac explained at Marius’ confused expression. “He knows way too much about disease transmission and he likes to remind us all.”

“But it’s thanks to the fear of his wrath that whoever’s on bathroom duty cleans it properly,” Combeferre said. “Speaking of which, we’ll have to re-do the chore wheel to fit you on it. I’m Combeferre, by the way.” He put the juice down to approach Marius, offering his hand to shake. Marius appreciated the firm and friendly grip of Combeferre’s shake.

“Jehan doesn’t have any active cases at the moment, I’ll ask him to do it later.” In the 10 minutes allowed to him, Enjolras had become fully alert and his air of authority had returned to him as he entered the room. Grantaire followed behind him with a sour look on his face.

“Quit scowling, R,” Bossuet laughed, putting his empty bowl in the sink. “Everyone has to learn about the morning at some point.”

“The morning is better approached from the end of a long night.”

“If you say that loud enough, I’m sure Bahorel will gladly show you how much he disagrees,” Musichetta grinned, making her way over to the stairs. “Has anyone seen Feuilly yet? We’ve got a boatload of stolen Lamborghinis to return.”

“He already left,” Combeferre answered, causing Musichetta to sigh and sulk upstairs to change.

By the time Marius’ attention returned to Enjolras, both he and Grantaire had cups of coffee in their hands. Grantaire seemed content to rest against the bench-top as Enjolras came forward to speak.

“It’s not easy going under cover,” he began, and Marius knew to listen to every word he said. “Your identity is your most important secret. You can’t let anyone outside of this house know who you really work for. I mean that – if you’re out and someone catches your eye, you can’t let anything slip. You can’t tell them where you work. You can’t bring them back here.”

“Which sucks, because everyone wants to sleep with an undercover agent,” Courfeyrac added, causing Grantaire to smirk and Enjolras to frown.

“It’s going to take some time to get used to it all and familiarise yourself with your cases, so you won’t be starting in the field just yet,” Combeferre said reassuringly.

“But when we think you’re ready, we’ll try to get you on the Patron-Minette case–” Enjolras was cut off by the sound of Grantaire choking loudly on his coffee.

“Patron-Minette?” Grantaire rasped between coughs.

“Montparnasse is out on parole,” Combeferre explained. “We think he’s going to try to bring them back to their former levels of distribution.”

“Montparnasse is out of prison and nobody thought to tell me?”

“He’s not getting released until the end of the week, we were going to tell you then.”

“I got arrested with the bastard and you weren’t going to give me any warning that he was getting released early?” Grantaire asked, outraged. “Why would they even let him out early?”

“Good behaviour and overcrowding, probably,” Combeferre suggested.

“Whatever, I need to be on that case,” Grantaire demanded. “I don’t even need a fake identity. You have to convince Valjean to let me be on this.”

“Am I missing something?” Marius whispered to Courfeyrac, who replied in an equally hushed tone. “Grantaire was involved with Montparnasse, who was one of the leaders of Patron-Minette, before they got arrested together.” Marius nodded in understanding and returned his attention to the quarrel in front of him.

“You sold him out to us, he is not going to let you back in – if anything he’s going to try to kill you,” Enjolras tried to reason, his eyes showing the strain it was taking for him to remain civil.

“How do you know he thinks it was me? You arrested a lot of people and any of them could have given him that information.” Grantaire had abandoned his coffee cup and was looking directly into Enjolras’ eyes, a silent conversation being shared between the pair. Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, looking away from the other man.

Bossuet, who had been watching the spectacle in silence, finally spoke up. “It’s not that bad of an idea, E. It’s the easiest way for us to get an inside man into Patron-Minette.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire said smugly.

“But I think you should test the waters before you jump right in with it,” he continued. “Just see how Montparnasse reacts to seeing Grantaire and decide a course of action from there.”

“I’m not comfortable with putting him in that much danger,” Enjolras remained rigid.

“There’ll be a whole team of FBI agents seconds away if things go wrong,” Courfeyrac reasoned, and Combeferre continued the persuasion. “Just talk to Valjean, see what he thinks. We do need a way into Patron-Minette.”

Enjolras exhaled deeply. “I’ll talk to Valjean, but I am in no way convinced that this is the way we should be going about this.”

“Thank you, Enjolras, really,” Grantaire said sincerely. The crease in Enjolras’ forehead didn’t disappear but he did place a soft kiss on Grantaire’s forehead, so Marius assumed that the discussion was over.

“Congratulations, Marius, you’ve witnessed your first fight between Enjolras and Grantaire and you’re still standing,” Courfeyrac said cheerily, earning him a whack on the head from Enjolras.

OoO

Over the course of the day Marius had met the rest of his housemates and managed to put a face to each name Courfeyrac had mentioned. Jehan explained to him how the chore wheel worked as he updated it, Feuilly was only in briefly to get lunch before leaving as quickly as he came, and then Joly gave him a short lecture on the importance of hygiene when living in a house with 10 other people.

The living room was hectic that evening, with almost everyone home and watching TV or reading files together. Marius had noticed earlier that the roof was accessible from the top floor balcony, so it was there that Grantaire found him, watching the waves roll in from the ocean.

“How’s the house treating you?” Grantaire asked, joining him.

“It’s good,” Marius nodded. “Everyone seems nice enough and I’m sure I’ll start to settle in once I start working.”

“With Enjolras training you, you’ll be the best rookie the FBI has ever seen,” Grantaire grinned. “I am a bit surprised you’re attracted to the roof so quickly, I usually come up here to drink alone but it seems I’ll have to learn to share.”

“It’s peaceful up here,” he shrugged.

“And it’s crazy downstairs, I get it. Plus, there’s a killer view up here.”

“The ocean’s mesmerising,” Marius agreed. “Do you think Enjolras will be able to get you on the Patron-Minette case?”

Grantaire exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging. “He doesn’t want me on it. He’s trying to protect me, which I get and all, but we both know our best option is letting me on the case.”

“Is it hard, being around dealers all the time when you used to be – shit I didn’t mean to…” Marius covered his face with his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire put a hand on his back. “I wouldn’t be in this line of work if I couldn’t deal with my past. I’ve been 5 years clean, and though there will always be temptation, I’m not going to throw all of this away for one hit. I’ve made a life here, with Enjolras and the house. That’s worth facing my demons every day.”

“That was beautiful,” Marius said.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you drink much, Marius? Coufeyrac asked, late in the afternoon of the next day.

“Not really, just every now and then,” he answered.

Courfeyrac nodded. “Well, if you wanted to join us a bunch of us are going down to the Musain later. We all spend far too much of our time there but it’s a good place to unwind.”

“Sure,” Marius agreed, wanting to seize every opportunity he could to bond with his new housemates.

Musain turned out to be a small pub a short walk from the ABC house, and judging by the warm greeting given to them by the bartender, Courfeyrac wasn’t lying about how much time they spent there. Most of his housemates were there, save for Enjolras and Combeferre who stayed home to go over case files, and Bahorel who was still working undercover at a club in the city.

“Your first beer’s on me,” Courfeyrac insisted, grinning widely.

“Feel honoured, Marius,” Grantaire stage whispered. “He’s never shouted me a beer before.”

“Somehow, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for you,” Feuilly joked. “Mostly because you either flirt with people until they buy you drinks or go around taking sips from all of ours.”

“I’m resourceful,” Grantaire shrugged, sitting down at a table in the back corner of the room. The rest of the group joined him, squashing around the large table.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Marius began tentatively, “but what’s the deal with those three?” He tilts his head towards where Joly has one hand clasped with Musichetta’s and the other on Bossuet’s arm. “Do they really make it work?”

“They’ve the best functioning relationship the house has ever seen,” Jehan answered.

“No one really expected it to work at first, but it’s been nearly two years and they’re still happy.”

“But keep earplugs around for when they sleep together, because they can be _loud_ when they get into it,” Courfeyrac laughed.

“You’re just jealous they’ve never asked you to join them,” Grantaire smirked. “I’m sure if you asked nicely…” Courfeyrac’s pout resembled that of a spoiled child and Marius couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of them.

Courfeyrac recovered quickly, speaking in a tone Marius had already begun to associate with mischief. “Now, young Marius,” he grinned. “I understand that you’re still settling in here, but I also seem to recall that you are single and as you don’t seem to be setting my gaydar off–”

“It’s very well attuned,” Grantaire interjected. “He’s guessed everyone that’s out as queer in the house – Enjolras and I were obvious, but he got Bahorel, Jehan and all three of Joly, Bossuet and Chetta, even before they got together.”

“Thank you, R,” Courfeyrac preened. “But as I was saying, there are quite a few lovely ladies here tonight that have been checking you out.”

Marius blushed slightly before humouring his friend and turning his head to scan the room. “I’m not very good at that sort of thing,” he mumbled, staring back down at his drink. “I’ve never been able to talk to girls.”

“It’s okay,” Jehan said softly. “They’re only stirring you.”

“Some girls like that shy bumbling thing anyway,” Courfeyrac offered, making Marius laugh a little.

Deciding it was time for a change in conversation, Grantaire announced that it was time for shots.

OoO

Marius, having forgone the shots, was the most sober of the group as they walked – or stumbled in Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Bossuet’s case – the short distance home. Being the least inebriated, he seemed to be the only one who noticed the blonde girl sitting in the living room. Instead of following the rest of his housemates upstairs he went to investigate, knowing that they didn’t usually have guests.

Seeing him coming, the girl stood up. “You must be Marius,” she said, speaking with the voice of an angel. And from the face of an angel. Marius may have been more drunk that he thought, because she definitely seemed to be an angel.

Realising that he hadn’t replied yet, he nodded hastily and she continued, “I’m Cosette, Valjean’s daughter. He wanted me to give some files to Grantaire, do you know where he is?”

“He’ll be here soon, I think he’s just throwing up in the garden outside. He did shots.”

“Ah,” she said, as if she knew this was a regular occurrence. “Is Enjolras upstairs then? I tried calling out but no one replied.”

“I can go see for you?” Marius offered.

“That would be great,” she smiled. “I don’t have authorisation to go upstairs without another agent.”

Marius smiled and nodded before hurrying up the stairs.

Courfeyrac, Bossuet and Grantaire had been watching from the entryway, thoroughly amused at Marius’ drunken attempts to flirt.

“They grow up so fast,” Courfeyrac sighed, resting his head on Grantaire’s shoulder.

“You’ve known him two days, Courf,” Bossuet laughed.

“Do you think he’ll ask her out?” Grantaire asked. “Or will we have to wait for her to make the first move?”

“This is Cosette we’re talking about,” Courfeyrac raised his head to look at his friends. “She’ll have made a date with him before she leaves tonight and they’ll be engaged within a year.”

“Engaged?”

“I know love at first sight when I see it,” he shrugged. Grantaire smirked at Courfeyrac before walking over to Cosette, only stumbling once on the rug.

“Cosette!” Grantaire grinned. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I have Patron-Minette files for you,” she said, catching Grantaire’s arm to stop him swaying. “Marius just went to get Enjolras. I don’t trust you to keep them safe right now.”

“I’m insulted, Cosette.”

“I’m insulted on his behalf,” Bossuet interjected.

“Courfeyrac, take Bossuet to bed,” Enjolras instructed, somehow still sounding commanding while coming downstairs wearing Grantaire’s pyjama bottoms.

Crossing the room, Enjolras took the folder from Cosette in one hand and put the other arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Does this mean your father approves of the operation?”

“The opening is too good to waste,” she replied. “It saves months of gaining their trust if Grantaire already has it.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, nodding. “Thanks Cosette. And sorry for…” he inclined his head towards Grantaire, who was currently clinging to him, face pressed into his chest.

“Just give me Marius’ number and all is forgiven.”

Enjolras smirked, “I’ll text it to you in the morning. Go easy on him, okay? It takes a lot to train a new agent.”

“I’ll be nothing short of an angel,” she grinned. “Goodnight, Enjolras.”

“Goodnight, Cosette,” he replied. The door shut behind her and he shifted his arm around his boyfriend, nudging him to walk.

“Hey, hey, Enjolras,” Grantaire slurred, leaning into his boyfriend’s side.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Enjolras said with the kind of patience that comes from years of practice.

“God, your hair’s soft, you know that, right?”

“You tell me every time you get drunk. I know my hair’s very soft.” Enjolras was slowly leading (dragging) the other man towards the stairs, cursing himself yet again for having a room on the top floor. “Come on, R, if you can get up these stairs I’ll make it worthwhile.” Grantaire suddenly regained most of his balance and began ascending the stairs at a much faster pace.

Enjolras just shook his head and smiled.

OoO  
  
After talking to Enjolras, Marius had gone out onto the balcony to stare at the waves. He could feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off, but he couldn’t shake the image of Cosette, radiant as an angel in the dim room. He was in love. He resolved to get her number of Enjolras and find out everything he could about her. He also resolved to go downstairs to get a bottle of water, because he knew from experience that his hangover would be hell in the morning.

As he passed Enjolras’ room he could hear sounds.

According to Courfeyrac, the only two types of sounds that could be heard coming from Enjolras’ room were argument sounds or sex sounds. Marius had already heard the arguing, so there was no mistaking that those were the sex sounds he could hear. He tried to ignore them as much as he could as he walked down the hall, but it wasn’t much use.

The sounds got harder to hear as he made his way down the stairs, but as he passed by Musichetta’s room near the landing between the first and ground floors he could hear similar sounds from distinctly different voices. He sped up his pace, deciding he did not need to know what Musichetta, Bossuet and Joly sounded like in the throes of passion.

He just wanted some water.

OoO

Combeferre enjoyed being the first one up in the mornings. He loved the silence of the house when everyone was asleep, occasionally greeting Bahorel as he returned from a night shift. He appreciated the contrast between the quiet before he left and the chaos that greeted him when he returned from running or surfing.

It was always different when he knew his housemates had been out drinking. Instead of the cheerful chatter over breakfast that usually welcomed him back, he found most of them still in bed. He could hear someone emptying the contents of their stomach into a toilet, and Courfeyrac was downstairs nursing a coffee, sitting silent at the table.

“Cosette was here last night,” Courfeyrac said, speaking quietly but still wincing at the sound. “Valjean approved Grantaire to the Patron-Minette case and she had some files for him. Also Marius is love with her.”

“Good for Marius, they’ll be nice together.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let Grantaire on this case?” Courfeyrac asked. “I love the guy, but do we really want to take him back to where he was 6 years ago?”

“We have to trust him and Enjolras to know their limits. If they think he can deal with being friends with Montparnasse again, we have to trust that they know what they’re doing,” Combeferre answered, keeping his voice steady and reasonable despite his own worries. “He’s been around other drug rings before.”

“But those guys weren’t his supplier.”

“We have to trust them,” Combeferre repeated. “I’m going to get a head start on reading those new files though. Do you think Enjolras will be awake yet?”

“All I know is that R won’t be up until at least noon, if we’re lucky.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Combeferre sighed, making his way upstairs.

He wasn’t expecting much response when he knocked on the door, but he thought Enjolras might have been at least semi-awake. He knocked harder and finally received the reply of a grunted “no” from Grantaire.

“I need those files Cosette gave you last night,” he explained. “I’ll be two seconds then you can go back to sleep.”

“Tell him to go away,” he heard Grantaire mumble.

“Go away,” Enjolras called hoarsely.

“Those files are sitting on the desk just inside the door, aren’t they?” He sighed. “I’m coming in to get them, please at least have a blanket covering you.” He turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly, giving them time to pull a blanket over themselves – which they apparently couldn’t do fast enough. He wishes it was a rare occurrence to see his best friend naked.

“I’m going to go read these files now. Thank you for your co-operation,” Combeferre said, closing the door behind him and already beginning the task of wiping that image from his mind.


End file.
